


A Mother's Lullaby

by k_howard_is_here



Category: Six - Marlow/Moss
Genre: Angst, Babies, Catherine can also be a good mum, Lullabies, Miscarriage, Motherhood, Past Lives
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-06
Updated: 2020-04-06
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:48:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23514919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/k_howard_is_here/pseuds/k_howard_is_here
Summary: Catherine finds herself recalling her past with all its losses and realises a new arrival could mean more than she first imagined.A one-shot based around the events in my work "Second Chance".
Comments: 6
Kudos: 25





	A Mother's Lullaby

**Author's Note:**

> So, this one just came to me one evening and I just allowed myself to write and see where it took me. Turns out, I apparently wasn't quite finished with my Aragon angst that I wrote in Chapter 3 of "Second Chance". If you haven't already done so, I would suggest you read that first.
> 
> Just a mild warning for referenced miscarriages throughout.

One night, when Grace was sleeping in her crib and Jane was preoccupied downstairs, watching TV with the others, Catherine took the opportunity to slip into her bedroom. She knew she shouldn’t, but she had a longing that she couldn’t ignore.

She gazed down at the baby girl, sleeping soundly, her tiny hands curled into little fists at either side of her head. A smile crossed Catherine’s lips. She was just so beautiful, so precious. Taking a deep breath, casting a nervous glance back towards the door, Catherine gently lifted Grace into her arms. She perched herself on the edge of Jane’s bed, cradling the girl. She just wanted to have that feeling again: the weight in her arms, treasuring the pleasure of holding a baby close. A single tear trailed down her cheek.

Memories of her firstborn son came flooding back. How she had experienced that same feeling, how he too had felt so small and vulnerable in her arms, yet after a long and tiring labour, had been her biggest achievement. After the tragic loss of her first child – a girl, stillborn – this healthy boy was such a blessing. The pure elation she had felt when he had been placed into her arms was incomparable to anything else she had experienced and the unconditional love she felt for him stronger still. What’s more, he had been born on 1st January – New Year’s Day. How fitting it had been, his arrival marking the start of a new life. It had been a simply perfect day: King Henry had been ecstatic to have an heir to the throne and a son named after him. His birth had been a cause for celebration: the King ordered a gun salute, the bells of the city were tolled in his son’s honour and he distributed free wine to the population of London. For Catherine, it was the most joyous moment of her life.

But the joy had been short-lived. It was never meant to be.

22nd February – a date Catherine could never forget. The date she was told that her precious son, just a month old, had suddenly died. Her perfect, darling son, ripped from her. Heartbroken, she had fallen to her knees and, overcome by grief, demanded her ladies to leave her so she could mourn in the privacy of her chamber. She didn’t leave her room that day, or the next. Instead, she knelt at the window and prayed, through her tears. She prayed her son was given safe passage to God and his angels.

But Catherine was to overcome the tragic and unbearable toll of two further miscarriages in quick succession. Two more sons, much to Henry’s bitter disappointment.

Finally, four years after the birth of Henry, Catherine safely delivered her sweet Mary. How, at long last, she had been blessed with a healthy child. But the memories of Henry were never too far away and Catherine had been fraught with worry for the first few months, terrified to let her out of her sight for fear she too would die. But, much to her relief, Mary was strong and continued to thrive. But Catherine didn’t fail to notice Henry’s resentment. He still didn’t have a son.

Then, three years later, the final blow. Another daughter, born a month premature, too weak to survive. Again, Catherine found herself plunged into the darkest depths of grief. But this time, Henry wasn’t there to console her.

With each miscarriage brought Catherine yet more pain and anguish. She felt like a failure, unable to deliver a healthy child. And, with each lost child, Henry’s frustration grew and his sympathy and patience ran dry. He’d been so supportive and solicitous after Henry had died, treating her with such dignity and kindness. But after that, he was never the same. His desperate want for a son superseded his love for her. It wasn’t just a desire, it was his one sole objective. One that he was so resolute and hell-bent on fulfilling, that it became an obsession. So much so, that after her final miscarriage, Henry discarded her: she was no use for him anymore. To him, she was worthless. 

Realising she didn’t hold Henry’s affections anymore, she had thrown all her love into Mary. A precocious child, Mary had been older than her years and showed great promise. Catherine had ensured she had the very best education: she hired the best tutors to teach her girl. She instructed Mary to serve God and took her to mass, and she delighted in Mary’s keen interest in music. But, by the time Mary turned sixteen, Henry took control, and banned Catherine from seeing her daughter. Even as she’d lain on her deathbed, Catherine praying that she’d have one more chance to see her, Henry never allowed it. Catherine died without being able to say goodbye to her beloved Mary.

Now, cradling Grace, she felt her maternal instinct stirring within her. She felt the need to protect this little girl; that she had been given to them all for a reason. For this, how could she deny Jane the chance that she never had? Unlike her, Jane had never been able to even hold her new-born son before her untimely death. At least she’d had Mary throughout her childhood and had had the opportunity to see her grow.

Catherine gasped as the baby girl began to stir in her arms. As she started to cry, she tried to hush her, bringing the child close to her chest. She found herself singing a lullaby.

_Arrorró mi niño, arrorró mi sol,  
arrorró pedazo de mi corazón.  
  
Este niño lindo se quiere dormir  
y el pícaro sueño no quiere venir.  
Este niño lindo se quiere dormir  
cierra los ojitos y los vuelve a abrir.  
  
Arrorró mi niño, arrorró mi sol,  
arrorró pedazo de mi corazón.  
Arrorró mi niño, arrorró mi sol,  
Duérmete mi niño, duérmete mi amor._

As the girl soothed, Catherine gently planted a kiss on the girl’s forehead, before laying her back down in her crib.

“Sweet dreams, princesita.”

At that, Catherine made a vow.

She would watch over this little girl.

Their gift from God.

**Author's Note:**

> *The lullaby Catherine sings is called “Arrorró mi niño” and my favourite rendition is sung by Sari Cucien of Patatín Patatero. The English translation is:
> 
> Hush-a-bye my baby  
> Hush-a-bye my sun  
> Hush-a-bye oh piece  
> of my heart.
> 
> This lovely baby  
> Wants to sleep  
> He closes his eyes  
> And opens them again.
> 
> Hush-a-bye my baby  
> Hush-a-bye my sun  
> Hush-a-bye oh piece  
> of my heart.
> 
> Thank you for reading. As always, please let me know in the comments your thoughts or feel free to leave me kudos if you enjoyed. :3


End file.
